


Fantasy

by ind1go_ink



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a snapshot of a failed memory Leonard tries to base Agent Texas off of.<br/>Set between the series of events of seasons 9 and 10, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy

The Director sighs, lets his eyelids close against the glare of the warm sun. Heated sand digs into his bare back.

It’s almost too relaxed.

Especially when Allison - not Agent Texas, he has to remind himself - saunters up to him, hips swaying with particular suggestiveness, and sits down next to him, utterly naked.

“Leonard,” Her voice is soft, caring. He feels his heart clench in his chest. He hasn’t lost her entirely then. She still exists in his mind. “Let’s go for a swim.”

He nods, lets his vision adjust to the brightness when he stares out across the water. Allison stands, legs and behind coated in golden grains of sand. She’s perfect - long tawny hair reaching the small of her back, limber tan limbs reaching towards the water, the sun. It’s bliss.

Until she dives into the clear blue ocean.

Leonard waits, his heart throbbing in his chest, fingers slowly clenching, nails digging into the flesh of his palms.

After a few minutes he scrambles forward, kicking up sprays of golden sand, sand scraping under his nails.

The water shimmers as he stares down into the depths, to the colourful sea floor. Allison is wrapped up within the waves, face staring up at him. Deathly pale, a soundless scream leaving pale lips.

“Stop!” He thunders.

The hologram programming falls away, leaving Leonard in a black film suit. He takes his glasses off, rubs at the bridge of his nose. The grey at his temples is pronounced. His tired eyes runs over the hour counter. By now the clock should have stopped working.

“Again,” He snaps.

Shimmers surround him as a calm ocean greets his gaze, the warm sand digging into his back.


End file.
